Specializing in what… like… kinda matters since 2012.

“A Bit on the Feminist and Alcohol Spectrum”

Alcohol. “Liquor store liquor store / Church church liquor store / Gas station Coney Island that’s where all the ni**az go / Only thing you never see is cleaner streets and bigger homes / On the street all I see is church church liquor store / Man it’s pitiful / But I made it through the grind ‘bout to outshine whoever you feelin’ most,” raps Black Milk on Tronic’s “Hell Yeah,” perhaps the best song on the album, making it his best song overall, in which case.

Today I made the choice to quit drinking, probably for as long as I’m alive. I’ve at times in my life, though, been a severe alcoholic — I’ve missed work shifts because of hangovers, and one time I had an embarrassing incident where I actually LOST MY CAR — not the keys, but the actual CAR.

Somehow, I’ve survived it all, and I’ve seen it on the faces of young people — that life is just too beautiful to live it amputating one’s own cognition track.

Anyway, as is a widely published fact, it’s sensitive people who drink, it’s insensitive people who make a lot of money in capitalist societies, being things like doctors, or psychiatrists, telling people they shouldn’t drink. This is the rich — but what I’m talking about is the more corporeal, the ones with more blood running through their veins, more natural rouge, more beautiful ugliness — feminists and alcoholics.

What is a feminist? Someone who hates me. Plain and simple. If a woman hates me, she is a feminist. If a woman does not hate me, she is not a feminist.

Ok, let me back this up a little bit. Bear with me. I grew up in a house full of women, cognisant women, to an overbearing extent, without a doubt… but who would actively attempt to instill in me an evenness of angles on men and women. What it’s made me… a wimp, for one thing, but also someone who seeks non-sexual camaraderie in women, as well as, of course, other things. Actually, I usually just want camaraderie, honest.

There’s obviously a lot of American evil, things like telling young boys that they have to have sex with girls in order to be cool, telling young girls they have to have sex in order to be obedient, etc… all this is a pretty new development, it wasn’t like this so much before “women’s lib.” And I could say a lot about women’s lib… but I’m fine with girls doing what they want to do. If anything, I stand to gain by situations in which girls stand to gain, but again, the whole pressuring thing is bad, which is why good parenting involves lax support and understanding every bit the extent to which it does “preparation for success” in the sense of aligning the young’in for a “good job” or whatever.

Everything I’m writing here is words, which is nice. And to be honest, I really can’t stand feminists. Not that they can stand themselves, or anything. This has much to do with why I’m willing to reside in my veritable hellhole of a town of South Bend, Indiana, a town which is really beautiful in its own right, sometimes too beautiful, with a river of consumptive girth running through the center known as the St. Joe, and it’s in St. Joe County, all very Catholic, yes. But I’ve noticed that Catholicism does not lessen the brightness in eyes of people, whereas feminism, I think, does, though there are other blinding entities oozing from the eyes of said cultural group. Feminists, ironically, believe in strict gender distinctions. I was listening to this one self-proclaimed feminist talk recently, and she was like, Hockey turns me on more than any other sport, because, and I quote, you have to fight everybody. I’ll give this girl credit, she was memorable. She was a feminist, but clearly not a homosexual, and she knew what she liked in life — gender dichotomy, violence, war. Where’s she been all Planet Earth’s life? And whadyu do when you’re around someone of the opposite sex, and you get the shakes, but go away feeling happy anyway? You go for a beer, and your face flushes, and you get lines in your forehead, and you wake up the next day to behold the cruel, impenetrable aluminum chassis of your Toyota Corolla.